


Colors

by vaileska



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Artist Mickey, Artist!Mickey, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, IDK WHAT TO PUT, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teacher Ian, Teacher!Ian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:53:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5853034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaileska/pseuds/vaileska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, a little bit of color never hurt anyone.”</p>
<p>	He looked up from his sketchpad, blue meeting green, a warm smile to contrast a cold sneer. </p>
<p>	“Depends on who y’ask.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors

He wasn’t sure what was with sunflowers. Didn’t understand the hype about them and the way people swooned over their too yellow petals. Then again, Mickey was never one for bright colors. Especially yellow. He was never one for a lot of things, but things happened to make him change his mind, more importantly,  _ people _ happened. However, sunflowers, he was never a fan of to begin with. They were just a flower to him, but to people like Ian, they resembled warmth and happiness. 

 

Most of his life was spent sticking to cool colors. Purple skies, blue eyes, green highs. It wasn’t that he hated warm colors, he had an appreciation for them, but most of his attention was on the cooler hues and he dedicated his work to discovering more about them. It wasn’t until an embodiment of red swirls, orange dots and yellow prints sauntered in his life that Mickey started to develop a fascination of warmer tones and their radiation of happiness. 

 

_ He sat on a bench in a park, studying the field of sunflowers; figuring out their shapes and shadows with the charcoal in his hand. Grey scales bringing the flowers on the page to life, failing to replicate whatever emotion these plants seemed to hold.  _

 

_ “You know, a little bit of color never hurt anyone.” _

 

_ He looked up from his sketchpad, blue meeting green, a warm smile to contrast a cold sneer.  _

 

_ “Depends on who y’ask.” _

 

_ It wasn’t meant to be funny, so the gentle laugh that came from the other man startled him a bit. Mickey wasn’t sure what startled him more; that the man laughed at his comment or the fact he didn’t mind the man’s laugh.  _

 

_ “I’m Ian, Ian Gallagher.” There was that smile again. _

 

_ Mickey grunted in response, going back to his sketch and noticing the way Ian Gallagher took a seat next to him. He wanted to focus on the flowers instead of the way blue denimed legs crossed comfortably over one another as a pair of green eyes fell onto the field before them. He  _ definitely  _ didn’t want to notice the comforting warmth that radiated off the redhead next to him and how tempting it was to lean in and let it take over him entirely. It was distracting, really. Mickey was just trying to sketch and this Ian Gallagher struts on over and plops down like they know each other.  _

 

_ “Not much of a talker, are you? That’s fine. I like your artwork, well, from what I can see. You’re covering most of it.” _

 

_ Mickey just arches a brow in response. _

_ “Do you not want people to see it?” Pause. “I wonder if it’s an artist thing. Probably isn’t because there’s people like Van Gogh who practically showed off their paintings.” _

 

_ It took everything he had to not punch this jackass in the face.  _

 

_ “He was tryna make a living, man.” Mickey sneered. _

 

_ “He talks!” It took a lot of strength to refrain from wiping that stupid grin from his face. _

 

_ Raven hair shook as Mickey disagreed, becoming quickly annoyed with the other. Why was he suddenly so defensive over Van Gogh?  _

 

_ “I don’t know much about art, but I know that I love to admire it.”  _

 

_ He was too aware of the green eyes that studied his pale face and how they traced his jaw, lips, nose, finally resting on his downcast eyes.  _

 

Greens and yellows and reds filled the canvas and Mickey decided it was finished. An endless field of sunflowers with one red sunflower that stuck out like a sore thumb. He’d deny with his dying breath that it had fuckall to do with a certain redhead. 

 

“Hey Mick! I brought dinner. Figured takeout was good enough. Not in the mood to cook tonight, gotta study. Mick?” Ian’s voice filtered it’s way through the door of his studio and Mickey covered his painting with a light cloth to let it finish drying. He walked out of the studio, closing the door behind him. It was an unspoken rule that he was only allowed in there. Ian was fine with that. 

 

“Good session?” Ian grinned, taking Mickey’s paint covered hand in his and placing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

 

“Could say that.” Mickey responded, moving towards the food that taunted his growling stomach.

 

“Will you ever show me your artwork?” 

 

“Fuck off, firecrotch.”

 

“I’d rather fuck you.” 

 

“Dessert usually comes after dinner, man.” 

 

Ian smirks at his comment, slithering behind the smaller man, turning him suddenly and pinning him against the wall.

 

“I’m impatient.” Pink lips covered his white neck and gently made their way down to his pale collarbone, marking it with purple reminders.

 

“C’mon man, food’s gonna get cold.” Mickey wished it would’ve came out as firm as he wanted it to be.

 

“You taste better.” Ian hummed against his skin, continuing to pepper light kisses all the way up to Mickey’s lips. Their lips met, a soft kiss becoming deeper and more passionate leaving both men weak at the knees. Ian composed his weakness better. He always did. It wasn’t fair. Mickey was always left seeming like a desperate bitch every time Ian broke the kiss and his lips chased after Ian’s and Ian would just  _ grin  _ at him. Him and that fucking grin. 

 

Ian removed himself to go grab the food on the table and Mickey tried to ignore the throbbing reminder on his collarbone of what just happened and followed his boyfriend to the couch. They sat next to each other, much like that day, this time they knew each other, were more comfortable with each other’s company. It was good. They took turns idly flipping through the channels on the tv before settling on some action movie they wouldn’t remember the name of in the morning. The majority of their days were spent like this. It was nice having something stable for once. 

 

Stability was a foreign term to both of them. Their lives were chaotic back in southside Chicago, but somehow they managed to make it out. It wasn’t until their third or fourth meeting after the bench in the park that they realized they were only a couple blocks from each other growing up. 

 

_ “Small world after all.” Ian smiled. _

 

Mickey came out, fought his dad, packed his shit and got the hell out of there. He wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to enroll in college and actually go, but here he was. Ian told him once that it was his brother Lip who convinced him to continue onto college. Said he had potential and  _ “why should there only be one Gallagher who graduates college?” _ Mickey never understood how families could interact like that. So comfortably.

 

Mickey was studying business and marketing. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, but he understood the math of it all and he grew up doing business, even though it wasn’t exactly  _ legal _ . He would’ve loved to do something with art, but most artists don’t become successful until after they’re dead. So business would have to do.

 

Ian was studying to be a teacher. “I’m good with people,” was his excuse and it wasn’t a lie, either. He was good with people. It was terrifying to Mickey just how good he was with people. Mickey wasn’t a people person at all, so it boggled his mind how easy it was for Ian to communicate with others without wanting to knock the teeth out of their head. 

 

The sun had set hours ago, two movies have finished dancing across the screen and Ian’s hand patted Mickey’s leg. A silent agreement that it was time for them to hit the hay. Clothes fell from their bodies as they crawled into the bed they shared together. Warm legs entangled with cool ones, soft fingers intertwined with calloused ones and pink lips met slightly less pink ones. Warm colors mixed with cool as they said their goodnights and drifted off into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhhh okay I haven't written a story in forever, just little things here and there, so hopefully this wasn't terrible. I'll be posting every Friday, maybe even surprise updates when I have some free time, but hopefully you guys like this and give some feedback so I can improve?? Thank you guys so much omg


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